


I Like To Do It All Night

by lookingfortherainbow



Series: Advent Calendar Fics of 2020 [9]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Enemies With Benefits, Holidays, M/M, Masturbation, Name-Calling, Office Party, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Smut, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Workplace Relationship, louis and harry are coworkers, white elephant gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingfortherainbow/pseuds/lookingfortherainbow
Summary: Of all the presents he could’ve picked from the pile, he chose one that was a fucking vibrating dildo.The whole office had erupted into laughter, well on their way to wasted by that time in the evening. Burning with a furious flush that spread to his chest, Harry had tried to trade. He’d had no luck, and worst of all was that Louis was sitting in the circle, looking cool as a cucumber. He stared with a smirk fashioned into those features that Harry only admitted to himself were stunning when they were getting off under the orange glow of the cleaning closet’s single flickering light bulb..Or, Harry's white elephant gift is a vibrating dildo and Louis encourages his use of it over the phone.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Advent Calendar Fics of 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037256
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	I Like To Do It All Night

**Author's Note:**

> Phone sex, yay! Enjoy! Forgive me for all typos, etc.  
> Title's from The Mistletoe Jam by Luther Vandross.

Harry and Louis have snogged--it’s true. The office’s janitorial closet has been their haven for months now, both of them finding refuge in each other, and it, when they need to get their frustration out. Snogging and dry-humping and handjobs have been the reason for Harry’s and Louis’ zoned out looks--mainly around lunch when their daily bickering comes to a climax and the urge to annihilate each other is just as strong as the urge to suck the other’s face off, perhaps come once or twice. 

But nothing’s ever come of it. They’re snarky to each other outside of the janitorial closet, throwing glares at each other all day long, sometimes throwing random shit over the partition that separates their cubicles that are side by side. 

Most of their interactions go like the way they did just yesterday:

“Another ugly sweater?” Louis had complained when Harry entered the lunchroom. 

Looking down at the blue sweater that had sheep all over it, Harry grinned obnoxiously at Louis, sticking his tongue out. 

“You love them and you know it.”

“No, actually, they make my eyes burn. Looks like something you’d hang on a child’s ceiling for when they can’t go to bed and need to literally count sheep.”

“Yeah, which is what makes it so cute.”

“I think you’re mistaking cute with tacky.”

“You’re tacky.”

“And you’re acting like a six year old.”

Harry reminded him how much he wasn’t by deepthroating him minutes later in the closet, making sure to unsheathe his teeth after Louis’d come down his throat, just to get back at him a little extra. 

_That_ is the normal routine of things. Nothing that would make them think about it when they got home from work, bodies sore and in need of baths from sitting in those awful desk chairs all day. Nothing that would cause them to lose sleep over. 

But Harry is doing just that now, laying in the dark of his bedroom, hours after their office’s White Elephant gift exchange party had ended. His eyes keep darting to his dresser sitting in the corner of the room. It’s like _It_ is taunting him from in there somehow, even under all the layers of socks Harry'd stashed it under immediately after getting home. 

Of all the presents he could’ve picked from the pile, he chose one that was a fucking vibrating dildo. 

The whole office had erupted into laughter, well on their way to wasted by that time in the evening. Burning with a furious flush that spread to his chest, Harry had tried to trade. He’d had no luck, and worst of all was that Louis was sitting in the circle, looking cool as a cucumber. He stared with a smirk fashioned into those features that Harry only admitted to himself were stunning when they were getting off under the orange glow of the cleaning closet’s single flickering light bulb. 

“This isn’t funny,” Harry couldn’t help but whine when he saw what he was holding. 

The packaging hadn’t been opened, still brand spanking new. At least that was going for him. 

“Really, Harry? You don’t think so? ‘Cause I think it’s fucking hysterical,” Louis had shared his two cents, arms crossed over a black _turtleneck,_ wolfish grin on his lips. 

And _he_ had the nerve to judge _Harry’s_ fashion choices? The audacity. 

Harry wished it didn’t hug his neck so tight like that, because it only served in making him want to pull it down to place hickies that’d stay hiding underneath it. 

“Look at it this way. You’re clearly going to have no luck pulling someone while wearing those god-awful sweaters, so it’s best you have an insurance plan,” he had lectured, mockingly, smirking the whole time. 

_I don’t have any trouble pulling you,_ Harry had wanted to retort, but he’d bitten his lip. 

Thinking of that smirk now is a mistake, because Harry’s brain is supplying him with an onslaught of mental images of how it looks with Harry’s precome slicked over it--one of Louis’ signature moves when he wants to tease Harry especially hard. Under the blankets, Harry shifts his legs, huffing. Getting drunk means getting horny and the one night Harry had restrained from insulting Louis, they’d not come in physical contact at all. 

In an attempt to pull himself together, he places his hands over the blanket, gripping the edge of it. He was not going to use a dildo that one of his own coworkers had brought. He wasn’t. 

Looking at it isn’t a crime though. So, as if he still lived with his mum and sister, he tiptoes quietly to the dresser, unearthing the box from the bottom of his sock drawer. 

When he’s settled back in bed, bedside lamp on, he opens it with flushed cheeks. A card falls into his lap, and Harry picks it up, wondering if they’re instructions. Which, well, would be humorous since he thinks the whole concept of a dildo is pretty straightforward. It’s not like you have to sweet talk it into nudging up into your body. That’s the whole point of them, isn’t it? Less hassle, more action. 

Much to Harry’s horror and sudden burning arousal, they’re not instructions. It’s a card addressed to none other than Louis Tomlinson. 

_Dear Mr. Tomlinson,_

_We appreciate your dedicated loyalty to our company. To give our thanks to you being a Black Star member, and favoring our small business’ innovative toys, we’ve gifted you with a 50% discount on our company’s top bondage items, as well as an exclusive, free, first shipment of the newest addition to our line of vibrating toys._

_The team at Rainbow Fantasies_

“What the fuck,” Harry wheezes. 

Louis’ a fucking bondage and toy company’s black star member? They’d never talked about their kinks with each other, and this revelation is making Harry’s heart race. Anxiously, he pulls out the dildo. It’s freakishly lifelike and big and Harry’s head spins with racing images of him tied up, manipulated, and surrounded by Louis. On a bed, not against a closet door. It’s hot and confusing, so he squeezes his eyes to clear his mind of it. 

Figuring Louis must’ve thought the dildo was an extra item in his order and not known an incriminating card was included, therefor deeming it safe to give away as a white elephant gift, Harry reasons that this makes it a little less weird that he was the one to receive it. And less weird that he’s about to actually use it. 

He’s more than half-hard already, and the way the remote makes the dildo vibrate in different pulses in his hand is motivation enough to tear off his pyjamas. To Harry, self-pleasure is all about finding beauty in his own body, looking at it with appreciation and lust and feeling it up as if it were a lucky stranger. So, after he grabs his lube from the nightstand, he runs his hands up and down his thighs, his ribs, the muscles in his abdomen that twitch and flex as grinds his cock against the sheets he’s perched on. 

When he looks at his hands, though, he sees them in a different shape, different texture of skin. They’re Louis’ hands, and Harry moans softly when he wraps his hand around his cock, wetting the skin of his shaft with his own sticky precome. A wild urge to call Louis, to tell him he has some dirt on him, to tell him he’s using that dirt to get himself off, overwhelms Harry. But it’s late, and that’s absurd, and Louis would probably get HR to fire him. 

Instead, he slicks his fingers up with lube, pushing into himself too fast, so good, too greedy for pleasure, nownownow. With one hand placed in between his folded thighs, and the other digging two fingers into his hungry rim, Harry leverages himself and arches back. He swivels his hips on his fingers, feeling himself open up around the sudden intrusion, and closes his eyes. 

Behind his eyelids are sinful images, real and imagined, of Louis. He’s always had this way of staring at Harry while he works him with nimble fingers. Unwavering attention gets Harry hotter than anything, and he wonders again what Louis’ reaction would be if he called him to request for a voice in his ear. Actually, he knows. He’d call him an attention whore, Harry just _knows_ this, and he throws his head back as he shoves a third finger in. Breathing harshly at the memory of how he’d humiliated Harry during their last time in the closet, he lubes up the toy. 

It’s thinner than Louis, and Harry’s stupidly upset at the fact the girth doesn’t match Louis’. But when he slides it into himself in one go, bearing down and giving a sudden, short shout at the way it brushes his prostate easily, he’s appeased. 

He’s arching his back, bouncing on the thing with desperation, the force of his body moving on his antique bed causing springs to groan and squeak. He looks down at himself, the way the bones of his hips scrape against the shifting skin of his pelvis and how his cock bobs without restraint, precome dripping onto the sheets with his erratic movements. 

He wants to get off, he doesn’t care about teasing himself, anymore, figuring he's reveled in the pleasure enough since his skin is coated in perspiration. What he cares about is hearing a voice in his ear that can tease and embarrass him so good it’s enough to get him to shoot off without a helping hand. So great is the urge, that Harry finds himself with a phone to his ear, swirling his hips on the fake cock inside him, delirious and stupid with lust. The buzz of the alcohol from the party must still be affecting him. 

“‘Ello?” A gravelly voice answers. 

_“Nhh,”_ Harry huffs into the phone. 

“Who’s this? It’s one in the fucking morning, who _is_ this?” God, had he really been riding the dildo for an hour already?

Louis’ voice is so scratchy it’s barely anything in his ear, breaking off in delicious tones that make Harry bounce vigorously. 

“Lou,” Harry tries to say, the rest of his name breaking off in a pathetic, breathless whimper.

“Harry, what the--”

“Get me off, get me off, _please_ just get me off,” Harry begs. 

The bed springs are loud against the hushed tones of his voice, and Harry hears the sharp intake of breath on the other end. 

“Holy shit, are you using. . .Wait, did you know--”

“Know it was yours? Yeah,” Harry whimpers. 

“Oh my god, how did you--"

"Doesn't matter!" Harry whines, impatient.

" _Jesus,_ you are _such_ a cockslut,” Louis says, the wonder and harsh insult, that isn’t an insult at all, rushes to Harry’s cock, making it twitch. “You’re using it right now, aren’t you? You little whore.”

It’s so much, hearing the terrible words, like a delicious punch to his gut, and Louis’ breath quicken over the phone. Harry curls over, shoving the dildo against his prostate and nudging, nudging, nudging, a hiccup of overwhelm and arousal breaking through his valiant effort to not seem so desperate. 

“D’you have it on?”

“No,” Harry breathes, sweat dripping into his eye. 

“Well, turn it on then," Louis says, irritation in his voice like Harry should've already done that. "Make yourself come on that big, fake dick like the dirty slag that you are. Can’t even wait for a real cock to get up in you, huh? Have to use a fake one ‘cause that tight little hole of yours needs something in it all the time, hm?”

Harry makes an embarrassing half-sobbing, half-groaning sound when he finds the remote and obeys Louis. His orgasm is fast and white-hot and makes his whole body burn with pleasure. He grits his teeth so hard they make a terrible grinding noise in his mouth, and the yearning, sorry little moans he lets out through his hoarse crying don’t embarrass him until he’s shaking with aftershocks and finally realizes he hasn’t shut up.

He comes back to his senses when Louis makes an abrupt, bitten-off noise, his breathing coming out in uneven stutters. Harry could recognize the sound of Louis coming anywhere, even over the static of a phone line. And, oh my god, they’d just had phone sex.

“Wanna kiss you,” Harry slurs into the phone. 

Louis’ used to his loose tongue that allows him to be vulnerable after an orgasm. So, he chuckles, huffing through the aftershocks of his climax, saying, “You’ll have plenty of time to do that tomorrow at lunch. Though you definitely deserve one now. . .can’t believe you called me.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles.

“No, no. I’m glad you did,” Louis reassures him, voice and words going gentle in the way they do after he’s used a harsh tone with Harry while getting them off. “We’re going to have to talk about this another time. But for now, you should get some beauty sleep, ‘cause that orgasm sounded intense.”

“Was so good,” Harry sighs, sated, easing the dildo out of himself and slumping onto his pillow. 

“You’re so good,” Louis murmurs, and Harry makes a pleased humming sound.

They stay on the line, and Harry is half-asleep when he agrees to Louis' random request to wear his sheep sweater tomorrow. Harry knew he'd been right in knowing Louis truly loved it. Two hours later, Harry's waking Louis up again with his pleas and moans, insatiable in his need. That's when he discovers, through an inordinate amount of filth coming from his coworker's mouth as he talks Harry to orgasm again, that Louis' request was because he'd wanted to cover the material in come. It says a lot about Harry that he wears it to the office with even more pride than before. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to reblog the little fic post I made for this series, [click here](https://andtheywerebandmates.tumblr.com/post/636606796721717248/its-december-and-i-wanted-to-do-something)
> 
> Thank you to all who've read, commented, and left kudos! <333


End file.
